Voldenatus
by Angela Ambiana
Summary: One and a half years since Voldemort’s resurrection, all is quiet at Hogwarts. The Dark Lord has not been heard from since the Triwizard Tournament… but he’s about to make his first move. And his favoured pawn is the person Harry loves most…
1. Chapter I

"Remember the flourish in the wrist! And draw out the second last syllable: Morphooooosa Cupcake!"  
  
Hermione tapped her wand to the china teacup on her desk, clearly articulating Professor McGonagall's incantation. The teacup jumped, and promptly morphed into a cupcake, complete with chocolate chips and pink puffy icing.  
  
Ron shot Hermione a look that was half-impressed and half-frustrated. "How do you do that?" he sighed. "Every time. What about you transforming my teacup for me - I don't need to, having a friend like you who can do it for me if I ever feel the need to turn random objects into cupcake."  
  
"I can't do it for you in an exam, Ron," Hermione shot back, a sharp, bossy edge in her voice.  
  
"I'm never going to pass Transfiguration... look at those Slytherins, they're laughing at me... can't you at least help me, Herms?"  
  
Hermione's face sprang into a grin. It was probably the show-off in her, but she loved helping people perform complicated magic.  
  
"Alright, hold your want like so... that's it... now, practice with me... Morphosa Cupcake!"  
  
Hermione caught Harry's eye. He was grinning at her. She knew what he was thinking: she's loving this, she loves letting her light shine. Hermione shot him a piercing look, as if to say `you next', and staring at his cupcake, which still had a floral design and a porcelain handle, he understood. Harry picked up his cupcake by the handle, pinkie sticking out, and made to sip it. Instead, he took a large, noisy bite and grinned at her. Hermione burst into hysterical giggles.  
  
Just at that moment, Ron squeaked and jumped back from the table. Hermione bit back her giggles and looked at his teacup. It hadn't changed a bit. But the desk underneath it was acting peculiarly. The surface of the desk seemed to ripple, so much so that a large, gloopy globule of brown wood separated from the corner and fell to the floor with a decisive splat. More dollops of wood rolled lazily off the desk. Hermione knocked over the bench in an attempt to get away from the quavering tabletop, shrieking as she fell. All the Gryffindors and Slytherins spun around in response to Hermione's confused shrieks.  
  
"Professor McGonagall," called Harry, a faint tone of amusement in his voice, "Professor, I think our desk is... melting."  
  
McGonagall rolled her eyes and swept over to where Ron's bench was slowly dissolving into a puddle on the stone floor. She arrived just as one of the legs gave way, and the whole bench gave a squelchy lurch and tumbled onto the floor.  
  
"I see you have discovered the Liquefum spell, Mr Weasley. How you got the word Liquefy from the word Morphosa, I do not care to ask. Finite Incantatem." The desk immediately stopped melting and, almost apologetically, the brown dollops of wood climbed back onto the desktop. McGonagall turned sharply and strode away, muttering something like "one in every year... sixth years, positively easy...".  
  
Harry, Hermione and Ron resumed their seats. Ron was white with fright. Hermione was red with the embarrassment of having her desk melt in front of a teacher. Harry was green with the strain of holding back his laughter. They looked a bit like a row of Christmas lights, as an observant Slytherin pointed out.  
  
The class resumed their attempts at the Morphosa spell. Hermione emerged from behind her spellbook to have another go at turning teacups to cupcakes. Harry continued half-heartedly, glancing at Ron and Hermione often in amusement.  
  
Hermione turned to look at Harry, to say something to break their silence. She looked up at Harry to mention... the weather, maybe?... but her words caught in her throat. His large, startlingly green eyes were staring directly into hers, his features etched with raw love. Hermione suddenly felt the familiar electricity ignite between them. Her heart leapt and her breathing sped up. Harry gave her a wry smile, and then leaned forward to whisper something in her ear.  
  
"You are so beautiful when you are embarrassed. Have I told you today how much I love you?"  
  
Hermione blushed. "I think you mentioned it at breakfast. And in Charms, just briefly..." She was silenced by the warmth of Harry's hand on her knee.  
  
"I'll say it again. I love you. Say, in about ten minutes, it's recess... let's skip lunch in the hall, I know a cozy wardrobe on level three..."  
  
"Harry!" she whispered in what she hoped sounded like a scandalised voice. She looked away from his eyes, avoiding eye contact. "You know, we made the rules, not in school..." She trailed off as her eyes fell on Draco Malfoy. He was looking directly at Hermione, malice and smugness chasing each other across his face (it was a look only Malfoy could manage).  
  
"Harry," she whispered, quieter still, "I think we'd better calm down. I think Malfoy suspects something. Just imagine the teasing!"  
  
Harry's eyes broke from hers and flitted quickly to Malfoy. He drew away from Hermione, and they both resumed normal conversation as they attempted to transform their teacups.  
  
It took a lot of concentration to force down the warmth that had grown in Hermione's stomach after that intimate encounter with Harry. This is Transfiguration, girl, she told herself, get a grip! If word gets out... although it had been two years since her run-in with Rita Skeeter, the memory sprang unpleasantly to the front of her mind. Although Rita Skeeter was still in a jar on her bedside table, she didn't believe that she was the only reporter who didn't care if their scoop was true or not.  
  
The echoes of the magically magnified bell found their way to the Transfiguration classroom. The sixth-year Gryffindors and Slytherins leapt to their feet and clutched their books. Hermione rushed forward: she would have to be early to lunch if she was going to take Harry up on that offer. She felt the heat rise in her cheeks at the very thought.  
  
Suddenly, she felt a sharp knock on her left shoulder. She felt her books slip out of her arms as she unbalanced and fell to the floor with a hard thud. She lay on the floor for a few moments, regaining her breath, while the other students pushed around her.  
  
A drawling voice rose through the mutterings of the students around her. Malfoy knelt next to her and shot her a smirk. "Granger, I'm so sorry, did I knock you down when I shoved your shoulder?" He looked genuinely concerned, and Hermione was startled - but then Crabbe and Goyle started to snigger, and Malfoy joined in.  
  
"Oh, you've used up all the smart insults your Daddy wrote up for you, eh? Reduced to shoving people around to make your point? Mature!" She pulled herself up and began to gather her books.  
  
"No, Granger, I realised long ago that you didn't grasp the meaning of my words. It's not your fault, a Mudbl... Muggle-born like yourself can't be expected to understand the thoughts and ways of true wizards."  
  
"It seems, from comparing my results with yours, that I understand wizardry much better than you!" she shot back hotly.  
  
"Oh, no, hanging around with scum like Potter and Weasley... you obviously know nothing about the ways of wizards in the real world, not in a silly little school." There was something in the way he drawled this that suggested that he was implying more than a throwaway insult at Hermione's friends.  
  
"What are you saying?" Hermione tried to form her face into the deadliest look she could. She was now on her feet, making to walk away from Malfoy and his Slytherin buddies.  
  
"I'm saying," he muttered under his breath, pulling her back to him, "that the Dark Arts are rising back to power. He Who Must Not Be Named has risen again. Do not be fooled by his silence: although he has been lying in hiding for the past year and a half, he is gaining more power, more influence, every day. He will rise again soon, and when He does, He will be more terrible than ever before. The world will know true fear again."  
  
Hermione looked at him in disgust. Her mind was in turmoil. Her whole body shook with emotion: fear, hatred, foreboding, panic, confusion, disbelief, all coursed through her veins. She murmured in a cracked voice, "Who... how... why are you telling me this?"  
  
Malfoy's icy blue eyes seemed to see right into her soul. He drew near to her face, so close that she could feel his hot breath on her lips. "He will not have mercy on you, Mudblood, if you are in league with Potter. Nobody but his own followers will be spared. I can help you there. You are clever, you are beautiful, and I saw the way Potter was looking at you. He Who Must Not Be Named could use a servant like you. Glory, Granger. Glory, power, respect, it could be yours. Just take my hand, and you will be accepted into the fold."  
  
Malfoy held out his hand. Hermione stared at him. This was... evil. She always knew that Malfoy was an annoying troublemaker, but... in league with Voldemort? She fought a wave of nausea at the thought. And he wanted her to join him. He wanted her to be a spy, to work against Harry. Her knees went weak. Her whole body went cold. Why wasn't she refusing? Did she want to accept? Looking into Malfoy's eyes, she heard a little voice at the back of her head: Glory, Granger. Your talents are wasted. The Dark Lord would appreciate you... you could finally be special, be important... Glory, power, respect...  
  
Hermione looked down at Malfoy's hand. He held it out, just like he held it out to Harry, on the train to Hogwarts in their first year. Harry... Harry refused. Harry was strong. Harry did what was right. She loved Harry.  
  
Suddenly, her situation became clear. The little voice of temptation disappeared. She knew she had always been competitive and ambitious, but this wasn't about her - this was about good and evil. She met Malfoy's eyes.  
  
"You can shove your Dark Lord up your arse, Malfoy. I don't want to be your spy. You're scum. You're scum and I hate you."  
  
She knew it wasn't much of a speech, but it served her purpose. She walked away without a backward glance at the group of stunned Slytherins.  
  
Malfoy regained his voice. "Granger!" he yelled across the hallway. "You've got it coming, Granger! I know about you and Potter! He is going to find it very convenient!"  
  
Hermione went rigid. She couldn't make her legs move. She faintly registered that many students were turning to look quizzically at Malfoy. Hermione realised that she didn't want to be here. She wanted to get out of this situation as soon as possible. She found her legs and ran. She didn't stop until she was back inside the Gryffindor common room.  
  
"Hermione!"  
  
Harry and Ron leapt from their chairs and ran to her.  
  
"Hermione, where have you been?"  
  
"What's the matter?"  
  
"What happened?"  
  
Hermione realised that her face was streaked with tears. She blinked away the salt water and looked Harry in the face.  
  
"Malfoy. He wanted me to join Voldemort."  
  
Harry and Ron looked at her blankly for a second. Harry snapped out of it sooner.  
  
"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN, JOIN VOLDEMORT?"  
  
The entire common room went quiet.  
  
"Take me to your dormitory," she whispered to them quietly, "it's a long story."  
  
Harry and Ron supported Hermione up the stairs to their dormitory. They kicked Dean Thomas out and locked the door after him. They then sat Hermione down on Harry's bed and insisted she tell them what she was on about.  
  
Hermione spilled the entire story. She told them about how Malfoy caused her to drop her books, then how he turned their exchange of insults into an offer to join the Dark Lord as a spy. She finished her story with the threat Malfoy yelled to her after she walked away.  
  
Harry and Ron stood thunderstruck, unable to speak. Ron eased himself on the bed next to Hermione, utterly bewildered and unbelieving. Harry paced the room, anger swelling visibly. Hermione waited anxiously for his reaction. But he just looked at her. He saw the tears well in her eyes. She suddenly felt so little, so afraid, so defenceless... in a second, she was in Harry's arms, sobbing into his robes, while he gently stroked the back of her head. She clung to him, afraid of ever letting go, as he crooned words of comfort into her ear.  
  
"Oh, Harry, Harry, he's going to use me against you..."  
  
"He'll do nothing of the sort, my love, you're safe, he'll never hurt you..."  
  
"What will I do?" she wailed in despair.  
  
"Tomorrow, you'll tell Dumbledore. We'll go together, and we'll tell him, before Malfoy has a chance to get near you."  
  
Hermione felt a surge of relief. Dumbledore. Dumbledore was here, and while he was here, nobody could hurt her.  
  
Hermione relaxed. Harry felt it and let her go. Hermione tried to stand up, but she was still too scared. So she sat down and gazed around the room, taking deep, steadying breaths.  
  
"Where's Ron?" she asked suddenly.  
  
"He tactfully disappeared," Harry replied, a small smile playing across his face. "Come on, let's get you back to your dormitory, tucked in and safe."  
  
"No!" Hermione exploded without thinking. She was startled at the strength of her reaction. She said again, more calmly, "No, I don't want to. I don't want to be alone tonight."  
  
She saw a light behind Harry's eyes flicker. She wasn't sure if this was the right time or circumstance, but she was sure of what she wanted. She knew they had made rules, but she was so afraid. She didn't want to be away from Harry. She wanted him close, she wanted to feel his love. She held out her hand to him, and he took it in a tender grip. Then they were clinging together in a passionate embrace, their lips locked in a loving kiss, into which Hermione poured all her feelings: her fear, her confusion, but most of all, her raw, heartfelt need to be with Harry.  
  
After a minute of their passionate exchange, Harry broke away from their embrace. Hermione felt the reluctance in his movement, and tried to pull him back to her, but he looked deep into her eyes and shook his head. Hermione looked searchingly into his eyes, asking herself: doesn't he want me anymore? Does he hate me? A crazy hysteria swelled in her stomach, rising slowly through her chest... He hates me... he doesn't want me...  
  
"Hermione, we can't... what if... what if someone comes into the dormitory? They can easily unlock the door with a well-placed charm... and if they don't, they'll know what's happening anyway... this isn't allowed at Hogwarts, I'm sure of it..."  
  
Hermione felt that there was some deeper reason for his pulling away than this. Her hysteria subsided, and a numb, saddened logic replaced it. "I can cast a spell similar to that used to hide the Leaky Cauldron... they wouldn't notice us, they would think it's just you sleeping."  
  
Harry sighed. Hermione could sense his internal struggle. He was casting around for another excuse, she could see it in his eyes.  
  
"What if I make you pregnant - " he began.  
  
Hermione reached into her pocket and retrieved her wand. She pointed it at the relevant point between Harry's legs, and muttered "Inconceivus", then swished it between them, whispering "Inconspicuous". She then pointed at the door and murmured "Alohomora". She looked back at Harry, meeting a mixture of exasperation and admiration. For no reason at all, she felt tears spring into her eyes. The emotional strain of the afternoon finally got to her. She felt a single tear roll down her cheek. She looked into Harry's eyes. Right now, she wanted him, she needed him. And he was resisting.  
  
"No more excuses, Harry. What's your real reason?" she whispered in a quavering voice. She didn't know if she could handle his answer.  
  
"Hermione, I just can't..." he began clumsily.  
  
Hermione interrupted him in a voice that was filled with love, fear, every feeling coursing through her body.  
  
"Don't you love me?"  
  
He was slightly taken aback. He felt the strength, the expectation in her words. "Hermione, I love you and I want you very much," said Harry huskily. Hermione felt the confidence subside, but a confusion rose in its place. Harry looked at her for a moment - Hermione could see the struggle behind his eyes. He continued: "I don't think this is right. Not now. I can't take advantage of you while you are scared... I want to do this because you love me..."  
  
Hermione felt love surge up through her body, warming her, embracing her. Harry loves me. She never was more aware of his love than she was that moment. Harry loves me enough not to want to take advantage of me.  
  
Hermione felt the smile spread across her face. She threw her arms around Harry, framing his mouth with a passionate kiss. Harry realised without needing to be told that she wasn't doing this because she was afraid. She felt his body responding to her kisses as she pressed herself against him. She felt his raw lust surface in his every movement: his kiss became hungry and heated, and his hands suddenly found their way into her robes. Hermione let herself sink into his body... this was exactly what she wanted... she was safe in his arms...  
  
He gently lowered her back onto the bed. She was suddenly devoid of her clothes, and so was he. She looked up in slight alarm, to see him tucking away his wand. She giggled and pulled him closer, feeling the warmth of his body against hers. There was a comfort in the weight of his body on hers, the heat of his lips on her skin, the gentle caress of his hands between her legs... she let her conscious mind slip away as her body's instincts took over. She and Harry became one, a single, writhing entity on a four-poster bed. Together, as one, they sank into the bliss of their love, all threats forgotten, all fears drowned by the flooding of passion. Again and again they came together, climax after climax, until their bodies, still clinging together, simply sank into sleep.  
  
Hermione jerked awake. She was cold, but at the same time, she was too hot. She tried to blink away the inky darkness - it was not meant to be this dark in Harry's dormitory. There was always moonlight streaming in the windows. She slowly turned her head to see where Harry was... he'd tell her where she was.  
  
She made a series of terrifying realisations. Harry was not there: all she could see was inky blackness. She was not on a bed: there wasn't a pillow underneath her head - it was cold stone. She was not in Harry's dormitory: this was a narrow room, with only a small window about ten feet up its wall. She felt cold horror clamp her heart. She made to sit up, but found that she couldn't. She struggled at bindings at her wrists and ankles. She felt a hot panic flood her mind. What was happening? There was a scream building in her throat... her every nerve was geared to run...  
  
A high-pitched voice began to chant an incantation, somewhere in the darkness near her feet. Hermione froze. In a single moment, the sheer terror gripped her body, as her mind accelerated to lightning speed. She raised her head slowly, to see where the sound had come from. Barely distinguishable from the darkness was a black, looming shape, a wand protruding from a black-draped arm. Hermione had no time to register what it was, because the wand it was holding over her stomach suddenly burst forth a bolt of green, sizzling electricity. It hit her stomach with a pain like a knife being sunk into her. The pain triggered the scream she had been holding in her throat.  
  
Hermione was suddenly aware of movement all around her. Although she knew she was screaming, she could hear people shouting, panic-stricken.  
  
"She is awake!"  
  
"This is impossible!"  
  
"What will we do?"  
  
"She must be killed!"  
  
The high-pitched voice stopped in mid-incantation. "No, she cannot, it will not - "  
  
He was cut short by another voice, a younger voice. "I will kill her, Master. Let me prove my loyalty -" Hermione's screams died in her throat. She recognised that voice, but she couldn't place it...  
  
A smaller figure than the one at her feet stepped into the patch of moonlight cast by the window. As if in slow motion, it raised its wand, pointing at Hermione.  
  
"Avada Kedavra."  
  
The room exploded with green light. Hermione heard a rushing sound in her ears, then a terrible pain. She felt like she was being wrenched from her body... the pain burnt her to the very bone, her every nerve screamed in agony... then everything was black. 


	2. Chapter II

The blackness faded into grey, and the grey into white...  
  
Hermione's eyes snapped open. The whiteness around her burnt into her eyes, singeing her retina. As her eyes slowly and painfully adjusted, she realised that she was in a room. A room with a high, vaulted ceiling. She recognised it, somehow, but she didn't know where from. She tried to force her mind to work, but she felt like her head was filled with molasses. She managed, with much strain, to process her first thought: "Where am I?"  
  
She turned her head to look around the room - suddenly, as if emerging from a deep sleep, all her other senses clicked on. A pain like a knife being plunged into her skull exploded in her head. She fought back a spasmic wave of nausea at the sudden assault. She laid very still, while the searing pain subsided, to become nothing more than a sharp migraine. She then registered a dull, throbbing ache that seemed to emanate from her very bones, as if she had run for miles and then had a yoga class.  
  
She tentatively moved her hands in a little circle. She felt cotton sheets grazing beneath her fingertips and across her knuckles. But the movement, slight as it was, caused a new rush of pain from her head - not so burning this time, but more dizzy and nauseous. So she instead strained her ears. She became aware of the breathing of another person, just beyond the curtains encircling her bed. After a few minutes, she was also aware of the soft pitter-patter of feet, bustling around somewhere to her left. Then a very faint, almost inaudible: "Good afternoon, dear, would you like some chocolate?"  
  
Hermione suddenly realised where she was - the infirmary. For some reason, she was greatly relieved by this. She tried to think back to why she was here, what had made her ill: all she could remember was a lot of green light. All she achieved from trying to remember more was an increase in the volume of her headache.  
  
Hermione's thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a faint knock, somewhere right of her bed. The feet pattered over to the source of the knock. Hermione caught snatches of a whispered conversation.  
  
"You have already been four times today. You have classes!" said a feminine voice. "And what do you think you are going to see? She's no different today from yesterday."  
  
"Madam Pomfrey, please, I need to see her..."  
  
Hermione would have recognised that voice anywhere. She sat up suddenly, as his name spilled from her lips. She realised that the pain didn't matter, because he was here. She was safe, because he was here.  
  
A silence fell over the entire ward. Then he came bursting through her curtains, his eyes puffy, his hair ruffled, his mouth wide open. Hermione felt a grin growing on her face at the sight of him. The familiar, but now more intense feeling swelled inside her. How she loved him.  
  
"Harry."  
  
Harry rushed to her bedside, taking her hand. "Oh my God, Hermione, you're ok... I've been so worried... what happened?... oh my God, oh my God, I was... you just disappeared ... you're ok, you're alright..."  
  
"Harry, it's ok! Calm down!" Hermione laughed, but Harry was still muttering. She placed her hands on his cheeks and turned his head so that she could see his eyes. His eyes were so beautiful. They were amethyst-green, like deep pools of seawater. She looked into his face for a moment, and they didn't have to put their love into words to communicate it. Then Harry lunged forward and caught her mouth with his own. Hermione ignored the pain of the movement and melted into Harry's arms. For what seemed like an age, they simply loved one another, passionately, deeply.  
  
"Excuse me."  
  
Madam Pomfrey was standing behind them, somewhat embarrassed. Hermione and Harry disentangled themselves, turning to look up at her sheepishly.  
  
"If, for a moment, you would separate yourselves, you might find that you have visitors." She seemed to be speaking to both Harry and Hermione.  
  
Madam Pomfrey departed through the curtains. Hermione heard a few quiet words, then Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall entered. They greeted Hermione and Harry cordially. All Hermione could do was nod back: she had never been addressed directly by Dumbledore before, unless you counted that one time in third year, before she rescued Black on Buckbeak. Or was it after... Hermione quickly shut off that thought, reminding herself that this was not the time.  
  
Harry stood up to leave Hermione and the professors alone, but McGonagall gestured for him to be seated. "I think you should hear this too, Mr Potter."  
  
Dumbledore seated himself on the end of Hermione's bed. He opened his mouth to speak, but seemed to think better of it, and closed it again. There was an expectant pause. Then Dumbledore spoke.  
  
"Miss Granger. I am sorry to trouble you so soon after your waking, but this is quite an important issue, as you will appreciate. I was wondering, could you tell me what happened on the night of September the fifth? It was a Tuesday, if I remember rightly."  
  
Hermione's stomach flipped. That was the night when she and Harry...  
  
She shot a nervous glance at Harry. He had gone white. She knew what he was thinking, because she was thinking it too. They were in so much trouble. That kind of conduct was forbidden at Hogwarts. They were going to be expelled, she just new it...  
  
Hermione's thoughts were interrupted by a chuckle from Dumbledore. He was sitting on her bed, smiling as if at some private joke.  
  
"Actually, Miss Granger, I was wondering if you could tell me what happened after you fell asleep."  
  
Warm relief swept over Hermione. But underneath it, a red-faced shame had settled - Dumbledore knew about her activities with Harry. She wasn't sure that she was really prepared to admit that to someone as, well, old as Dumbledore.  
  
McGonagall's voice this time interrupted her thoughts. "Miss Granger, I know this might be hard for you, but you really must try and remember." Hermione nodded.  
  
She thought back to her night with Harry. The memories came exceptionally clearly, and with surprising ease. She could remember every moment of her 2-hour session with Harry. She could even clearly recall the dream she had afterwards - she was tied to a pole at the bottom of the lake, stark naked, and Harry was coming to rescue her. But he never rescued her, they remained having "fun" at the bottom of the lake. She made a mental note to tell Harry about the fetish she had developed during that particular Triwizard Tournament task - she had a feeling it could be much more fun in real life.  
  
She tried to focus on the next thing that happened. But nothing would come. There was a blankness in her mind, as if there should be a memory, but there wasn't. And then a lot of green light.  
  
"I don't remember anything, except a dream. But that's it."  
  
Dumbledore looked at her quizzically. "Could what happened in this dream have brought about your current state?"  
  
"No," she answered quickly. "Definitely not." But then she added, "What do you mean, my current state?"  
  
"My dear, you have no memory of the past four weeks at all?" Dumbledore asked, his brow furrowed with concern.  
  
"Of course I do - the regular classes, four meals a day, dormitories at night... why shouldn't I? Nothing special."  
  
Dumbledore sighed. "Miss Granger, you went missing on the night of September fifth. You were not in your dormitory that night, explainably, nor did you come to breakfast the next morning. You didn't come to any classes. Your friends began to worry, and came to Professor McGonagall. When you were not seen the next day, we became highly concerned. Your parents were alerted of your disappearance. After four days had passed, you were found. In fact, you were found in a broom-closet that we had no knowledge of, when Mr Potter thought of using a fascinating and admirable map that he possesses. You were, for all appearances, dead. No breathing, no heartbeat, nothing.  
  
"Do you remember anything yet?" Dumbeldore asked, looking closely at Hermione. All she could do was nod, registering dimly that it hurt her head. She was numb with shock. Dead? But Dumbledore continued, and Hermione made herself listen to his voice.  
  
"But something quite miraculous happened. We had laid you on this bed, for friends to pay their last respects. But after three days, Madam Pomfrey noticed something quite alarming: you seemed to be showing none of the normal signs of post-death. In fact, if possible, you seemed to be getting less dead. For this reason, we left you here. Mr Potter visited you multiple times every day, as well as your friend Mr Weasley. Mr Potter here, in his constant vigilance, could hardly fail to notice when your heartbeat returned. Quite astonishing. I believe you made headlines in the Daily Prophet for over a week. I think that you then became quite famous when you began to breathe again. "The Girl who is Dying Backwards" is the phrase I believe the media used. So you can expect to be visited by many people, including reporters and fans, when the news leaks out that you have regained consciousness."  
  
Hermione sat stunned for a moment. She looked at Harry. He was wearing an expression that said, it's true. The story seemed too ridiculous, too outrageous to be true.  
  
"But..." Hermione forced the words out of her mouth, "but how did I die?"  
  
Dumbledore sighed again. "We don't know. Neither of you were harmed in any way. You seemed perfectly healthy, except for the obvious fact that you were dead. We suspected Avada Kedavra, for it was the only thing that fit. Everything else was ruled out. You were tested for all deadly potions known, all hexes, all curses, everything. But now, it seems, we have to also exclude Avada Kedavra, for you recovered, which has never happened. No, not even in the case of Harry Potter, for he never actually died, as you did - seemingly. Yes, you will appreciate that this is quite a riddle we have, and we were hoping that you could help us solve it. But that, it seems, is not to be."  
  
Hermione sensed that Dumbledore had finished his speech. There were so many questions she wanted to ask, but she seemed unable to voice any of them. One rose to the top of her mind, an easy question to ask, so she spoke it.  
  
"I... I recall that, earlier, you mentioned... you said `neither of you were harmed'. What do you mean, `neither'?"  
  
Dumbledore smiled, somewhat sadly. "That matter is for Professor McGonagall to discuss with you, I'm afraid. I am in no position to answer the questions that will arise from that particular answer. I think I shall leave you now, in fact." Dumbledore stood up, stretched his back, and left.  
  
Hermione looked up at McGonagall. "So..."  
  
"Aah, Miss Granger." McGonagall stepped closer to Hermione's bed. "No-one except Dumbledore, myself and a few of the teaching staff know this - we had to conceal it, or else Witch Weekly would have had a field day."  
  
Harry exchanged a quizzical glance with Hermione. Neither had any idea what was to come.  
  
"Hermione, my dear, you are pregnant."  
  
Pregnant? "How could I be pregnant?"  
  
"I trust I do not have to explain the exact procedure, but I assume you would be knowledgable about it after what happened between you and Harry."  
  
Harry was staring at McGonagall, his mouth hanging open. Hermione felt like Harry looked. How? It was impossible.  
  
"That's impossible!" Hermione said. She realised that Harry had said exactly the same thing in unison with her.  
  
"It seems not. Such activities as those engaged in by you two are strictly forbidden in Hogwarts, so, naturally, everyone does it. But you, Miss Granger, of all people, I would have expected to take the necessary precautions."  
  
"But we did, Professor! And I know I did it right!" Hermione blurted.  
  
"I trust that you believe you did. But you cannot deny that your actions did have a result, a result due in eight months!" McGonagall was going distinctly red in the face as she said this. Then she took a few deep breaths to calm herself, and smoothed back her hair.  
  
"That is all. I do not advise that you tell anyone of this, not even your friend Weasley. I imagine the media would love it: the only two people known to inexplicably defy death are in love with each other. But this is far from a fairy tale, you two, this is a very serious issue. You must consider what you will do with the child, and what you will do with yourselves. Now, I must go. I have classes to teach, and I believe that you, Mr Potter, have a Potions lesson to go and enjoy. You will be needing more rest, Miss Granger, but expect further questioning when you have recovered. You will resume your studies when you are fully fit. Come now, Mr Potter, and goodbye Miss Granger."  
  
Harry stood up, then bent over Hermione. He whispered a few words in her ear.  
  
"I'll visit often. It will all be all right. I love you." He kissed her softly on the lips, then turned around and left.  
  
Hermione watched Harry depart. As the curtains fell back together, blocking her view, she thanked Heaven that she wasn't alone, and that Harry loved her. 


	3. Chapter III

Hermione sat on the edge of the Infirmary bed, packing her Get Well cards and catch-up homework into a bag. She had spent a week recovering from her near-death experience, constantly fending off unknown and unwanted guests, as well as the occasional reporter who flew through the window in his desperation to get an exclusive scoop. But now she was feeling much better, and she had completed all the homework essays and extra study to maintain her place at the head of the year. She was ready to leave the Infirmary, and Harry would be arriving any moment to pick her up and go to breakfast.  
  
Just as she was thinking of Harry, there was a loud knock at the Infirmary door. A minute later, Madam Pomfrey was leading Harry and Ron over to Hermione's bed.  
  
"Hermione!" Ron and Harry called together. Harry got to her first, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his lips to hers. Ron skirted around the two, giving them a fair radius, and picked up Hermione's bag off the bed.  
  
Harry released Hermione, now taking her hand and leading her to the door. "You'd better be careful, the Daily Prophet and WWN and all of the others have reporters camped out just outside there. It's been like that ever since you woke up! This first-year broke down sobbing the other day because they were trying to get him to tell them about you as he came out of here - I don't think you stand much of a chance!"  
  
"Honestly, Harry," Hermione said, the characteristic bossiness back in her voice, "don't you learn anything?" Then she flashed Harry a mischievous smile, whipped out her wand and, waving it in a wide circle around their three heads, cast "Inconspicuous".  
  
Harry snorted with laughter, then kissed Hermione's lips tenderly. "You're brilliant. What would I do without you?"  
  
"Live a life of celibacy, fail Potions and be harassed by reporters wherever you go."  
  
Harry grinned. Ron suddenly pushed between them, muttering something about "stupid ruddy lovey-dovey gooey idiots" and told them to get a move on.  
  
The three of them opened the heavy doors and went through. Harry and Ron were expecting to be suddenly squashed by reporters, but nobody paid any attention to them. Hermione led them through the crowd, shoving people aside as they tried desperately to point their cameras and microphones at the door.  
  
Harry couldn't resist. He nudged a reporter from Witch Weekly in the ribs, so hard that she had to notice.  
  
"Hmm?" she answered distractedly.  
  
"I was just wondering, who are you looking for?" Harry asked. Hermione had noticed his dalliance, and was trying to pull him away.  
  
"Hermione... Granger..." she mumbled vaguely.  
  
Harry winked at Hermione. He waited a few moments for the mischievous smile he loved so much to spread across her face...  
  
"Then you might want to look over there."  
  
Hermione stood just beyond the entrance to the hallway, Ron at her side. Harry skidded to a halt next to her. She brandished her wand, crying "Finite Incantatem".  
  
The reporter who Harry had been talking to suddenly sprang to life. She started jumping up and down, gesticulating madly, shrieking, "There she is! There she IS!"  
  
Hermione, Ron and Harry only had time to grin wickedly before they had to turn and run. Hermione's laughter echoed through the corridors ahead of them, while the reporters' yells and footsteps followed them. Hermione realised that she hadn't had this much fun in months; Harry realised how much he had missed Hermione's wild streak; Ron realised how much luggage Hermione had acquired during her month in a coma.  
  
The three were stopped suddenly by a dark figure in the hall ahead of them. The icy voice of Severus Snape chilled their high spirits in an instant.  
  
"A very amusing game, I'm sure," he spat, ignoring the clamour of the reporters, who were just rounding the corner and coming into view. "Now who is going to send those reporters away? You never stop causing trouble, Potter. You, your sidekick and your... whore can each take twenty points from Gryffindor house."  
  
Hermione was too stunned at what Snape had called her to care about anything else. She felt the heat rising in her cheeks as Snape looked past them to the reporters, saying "These children are not free to make a statement. You have no further business here."  
  
Hermione heard a dull ringing in her ears. She couldn't shut out what Snape had said. He called her a whore. She realised that Harry's arm was around her shoulders, and that he was talking to her.  
  
"Come on, Herm, we need to go..." Harry's voice brought her attention back to the present. She realised that Snape had gone, and so had the reporters. "Hermione, we need to get down to the Hall for breakfast. Come on, now."  
  
"But how did he know?" Hermione said, her voice panicky.  
  
"Know what?" asked Ron.  
  
Hermione shot Harry a questioning look. "It's safe for him to know," he replied to her unspoken question.  
  
"Safe for me to know what?"  
  
"Hermione is pregnant. I'm the father. It happened that night after Malfoy threatened her." Harry filled him in quickly. Ron quickly disguised his surprise. He knew this wasn't the time.  
  
"Anyway," added Harry, "we really need to get to breakfast, or it'll be more than twenty points each."  
  
Hermione nodded. She tried to tuck her feelings into a corner of her mind to deal with later, but she couldn't rid herself of them: they were like a lingering taste, bitter but distant. She allowed herself to be led away by Ron and Harry.  
  
None of them noticed a figure step out of the shadows where they had been - a tall, thin figure with silvery-white hair.  
  
* * *  
  
Harry, Ron and Hermione had had a miserable breakfast. All around them, rumours had been whispered, and sidelong glances shot from over plates of bacon.  
  
But they had survived breakfast. They were now making their way slowly to their Potions lesson. Admittedly, it wasn't the lesson Hermione would have preferred to have upon her return from a month-long infirmary visit, but it was a class nonetheless. And classes were what she did best.  
  
Hermione took her usual seat next to Harry at the second-front bench. Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy Parkinson sat down behind her. It struck her how quiet Malfoy had been recently - he didn't seem as chatty as he used to be. Now he seemed to satisfy himself with menacing stares across the classroom and through the throngs of the corridors. A chill crept down her spine as she recalled the offer he had made to her... she had almost forgotten...  
  
Hermione began to absent-mindedly concoct her Sleep Draught. She wasn't concentrating on the recipe very hard, as she had begun to hear snatches of sniggering behind her back, and was attempting to find the cause of the Slytherins' amusement.  
  
She wasn't thinking about the beetle-eyes she was pulverising when she caught snatches of Malfoy's dark voice and Pansy Parkinson's shrill squeals of laughter. Every now and then there was a discernible word or sentence: "Granger", "Mudblood", "Potter" and such. She distractedly poured her powdered beetle-eyes into her potion. Her attention snapped back to the draught when it turned a livid shade of magenta.  
  
Snape noticed. He had been waiting for her to make a mistake ever since she first entered the classroom. He stalked over to her cauldron, a gleeful sneer playing across his face.  
  
"Miss Granger, should you have added those beetle's eyes before taking the cauldron off the flame?"  
  
"No, Professor," Hermione murmured quietly.  
  
She heard Pansy Parkinson's unashamed trill behind her, "Ooh, look, Harry's whore has figured out how to say `no'!"  
  
"A bit late now, it seems," added Malfoy.  
  
The Slytherins sniggered madly. Harry and Ron whipped around in surprise. Harry drew his wand and pointed it directly at Malfoy's face.  
  
"Say that again, you filthy bastard."  
  
"He doesn't need to. I think she heard it the first time." Pansy giggled shrilly.  
  
Hermione, sobbing into her Gryffindor scarf, ran from the room. Hatred, anger, shame and despair were all assaulting her mind. It was more than she could cope with.  
  
Snape watched her depart. Then he turned to Harry and Ron. "Sit down. Twenty points from Gryffindor for threatening Malfoy."  
  
"But didn't you hear what he said to her?"  
  
"Yes, I did, but I cannot punish that - it is Professor McGonagall's choice not to punish you and Hermione for your indecencies." Ignoring Ron and Harry's speechless protests, he turned to Malfoy. "Fetch the Granger girl. She has no excuse to walk out of class like that. Alert her that twenty points will be taken from Gryffindor for leaving the classroom without permission. I believe that adds to one hundred points lost from Gryffindor in the past two hours."  
  
Malfoy shot Harry and Ron smug looks, then departed from the room.  
  
* * *  
  
Malfoy found Hermione sobbing behind a statue of a gargoyle on level four. As he approached, the gargoyle gave him a pleading look. He did not respond.  
  
"Get up, Mudblood."  
  
Hermione looked up at him. She tried her best to give him an insolent stare, but the effect was lessened somewhat by her puffy nose. She slowly stood up, hiccoughing occasionally, so that she could look at him eye-to-eye.  
  
"Snape wants you back in class," he said in a clipped, businesslike tone.  
  
Hermione made a move to push past him. Suddenly, a pain like a knife was plunged through her scull seared her head. She looked down, blinking away the red haze of pain, to see that Malfoy had gripped her wrist.  
  
"I want you here."  
  
Malfoy shoved her suddenly against the stone wall. The sudden agony that had erupted from her head had made Hermione weak. The world slid in and out of focus crazily, while her hearing was like a badly tuned radio. The pain was on the very edge of endurance.  
  
"You and Harry... you think that's Harry's baby, don't you? It's not... I know..." Hermione faintly registered that Malfoy was gibbering hysterically. He pressed his body against hers to keep her against the wall. She screamed suddenly as the pain was pushed momentarily beyond endurance. Then his hand was clapped over her mouth.  
  
"I love you... you love him... I love him... the only two people I have ever loved, and they stole each other away from me... you don't know how hard it's been... telling them I hate you, while all I wanted was to steal you away... and pretending to hate Harry... throwing punches just to touch him... how could you..."  
  
Some of these statements filtered into Hermione's pain-riddled mind. But she couldn't comprehend their enormity - she felt like her head was about to split down the middle. Her eyesight was tinged red... or was that blood?... Malfoy's face was covered in scarlet streaks of blood...  
  
"I love you... it was so hard to do it... but I was loyal... I was as good as dead, when you were gone... but you lived... and the child lived... and you didn't remember... I love you, I love you, I love you..."  
  
Suddenly, Malfoy's lips were on Hermione's. Her body convulsed as the agony ripped through her. She couldn't take it... Malfoy's hands were in her robes, his touch burned her skin... every moment was pulsating torture... she couldn't go on...  
  
"And I killed you! He raped you and I killed you!" Malfoy was hysterical. The words meant nothing to Hermione. She couldn't think anymore. The throbbing, burning pain had taken her over. The screams died in her throat. She let go of her will to live. She suddenly felt very light... she was flying... she saw her body, her face covered in blood, sliding to the ground... Malfoy, sobbing, screaming at her not to leave again ... and she turned away, and the blackness engulfed her. 


	4. Chapter IV

The blackness faded into grey, and the grey into white...  
  
Hermione's eyes flicked open. She was struck with a sudden sense of déjà vu. It was the same high, vaulted ceiling as last time. She sheets felt the same. The smell was the same – a slightly dizzying mixture of herbal teas, Bubotuber extracts and All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover fumes. She blinked once, twice, trying to chase away the little black dots swimming around her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak –  
  
"Hermione!"  
  
It was Harry's voice. Instantly, Hermione felt his lips upon hers, passionately kissing her in between half-formed mumbles. Hermione felt a laugh rise to her lips, and as she released it, she felt suddenly lighter. Harry removed his lips from hers and simply embraced her. It took Hermione a few moments to register that he was sobbing.  
  
Hermione pushed Harry away to arms' length, so that she could look at him. "Harry, what's wrong?"  
  
"Don't you remember?" Surprise replaced grief on his face.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You died again. But this time… oh, Hermione, I thought I'd really lost you this time… and whoever said hope is what pulls you through is a liar… I hoped you'd awake, like last time, but every day, there you were, dead as the last day…"  
  
"What do you mean?" Hermione's head was spinning. Again? "Didn't I… what about… Harry!" A thought suddenly occurred to Hermione. "Harry, the baby!"  
  
Harry looked up into her eyes. "The baby was fine this time. It never died. It just kept living: that's why we thought you would pull through…"  
  
"But didn't I do that backwards-dying thing?"  
  
"No. Well, yes. But you went straight into a coma. Just then… that was the first time you've shown any sign of life for seven months."  
  
"Then how… seven months?" The words finally sunk in. But Hermione couldn't believe them.  
  
She looked up at Harry. She noticed that he was different, somehow: he was much thinner, his hair was falling differently, there was considerably more stubble on his chin, and his nose was a bit different. He reached over and put his hand on her belly. Her gaze drifted from his face, down his arm, to his hand… and she realised that he was telling the truth.  
  
"Eight and a half months pregnant," he said. Hermione stared down at her swollen belly in disbelief. It seemed like just a moment ago that she and Malfoy were in the hallway, behind the gargoyle…  
  
"I need to see Dumbledore!" Hermione suddenly erupted. "Quick, Harry! It's urgent!"  
  
Harry saw the look in her eyes. He disappeared in a flick of heavy curtains. Hermione heard his footsteps retreating from the wing.  
  
She eased herself back onto her pillow. No sooner had she settled herself than –  
  
"Hello, Hermione."  
  
It was Malfoy. He was a good inch taller, but he seemed diminished. His face was marked with stress and sadness. He still stood with his straight- backed pride, except the way his shoulders hunched seemed to say that he was tired of it.  
  
But the image of what he had said and done behind the gargoyle was still too fresh in Hermione's mind.  
  
"What the hell are you doing here? Get out!"  
  
He didn't flinch. He stepped closer. This close, she could see the hunger in his eyes.  
  
"I felt you wake up. It was like a match being struck at the back of my mind," he whispered, so quietly that Hermione had to strain to hear.  
  
"Why are you here?" Hermione asked. She tried to ignore a throbbing headache that was growing at the back of her mind.  
  
"You don't know what it's like," he said, ignoring her question, "to love you like I do. I can't touch you, because of who I am. My heart burns, like acid eating me away, but I cannot even look at you. And Harry… I held out my hand, and he refused."  
  
"What's Harry got to do with this?" Hermione was scared. Bratty Malfoy, she could handle. This was too much.  
  
"You think he's the father, don't you?"  
  
"What are you saying?" Hermione whispered. Malfoy… but he couldn't be!  
  
"No, I'm not the father. I begged, but He had to do it. It was the way it had to be done, or else it wouldn't work. It was so hard, watching Him. Again and again. He knew that I loved you, and He knew that I loved Harry. It was my test.  
  
"But I won't pass it. It's been agony. I watched you grow, sleeping while that… that monster grew… and he – Harry - became weak, weak with sorrow… how I yearned to end it all. But I couldn't. I made a bargain. A bargain with the devil. Forgive me, Hermione - " he fell to his knees, "please forgive me…"  
  
He reached out and took her hand. Pain exploded in her head. She felt a scream forming in her throat, the pain was so sudden, so intense –  
  
"Good morning, Madam Pomfrey."  
  
It was Dumbledore's voice, from just beyond the curtains. Malfoy let go of her hand, and in a rustle of curtains, he was gone.  
  
The pain subsided almost immediately. Hermione tore her eyes away from the spot through which Malfoy had disappeared to greet Dumbledore and Harry. The Headmaster looked older too – his face was deeply etched with lines of worry. Hermione suddenly felt very young and ignorant; she had been away from the world for seven whole months. A few quick calculations told her that she was already seventeen. What had happened? There was so much that could have changed, that must have changed, in seven months.  
  
"Harry seemed to think that you had something of great urgency to tell me, Miss Granger," Dumbledore interrupted her thoughts.  
  
Hermione's thoughts snapped back to the present. "Malfoy! Draco Malfoy! He told me that… he told me…"  
  
Hermione found that she couldn't bring herself to say "he loves me". She remembered the pleading look in his eyes, the sorrow, the beg for forgiveness…  
  
"Miss Granger, I am aware that Mr Malfoy made you an offer mid-last year, which you sensibly refused." Hermione glanced at Harry: of course, Harry had already told him. You could tell a lot of things in seven months.  
  
Hermione looked up at Dumbledore. She knew there was something else coming. She could see the words forming behind his eyes.  
  
"Hermione," he began. She was surprised at the informal address. "There are many, many questions that need answering, and I hope that you might be able to give us some clue. First and foremost, I need to know how you acquired a curse scar."  
  
Hermione blinked at Dumbledore. A curse scar? Her?  
  
Harry saw that she didn't comprehend. "Herms, we found a curse scar on your scalp, about a month after you… after we found you in the halls."  
  
Hermione's hand flew to her head. She instinctively knew where the scar was. It was where the pain radiated from whenever Malfoy was near…  
  
"It is quite puzzling, you will appreciate. A curse scar suggests that you were indeed the victim of an Avada Kedavra curse. But when we found you, you were bleeding quite fiercely. Harry, as you know, also survived the Killing Curse, but he never bled -"  
  
"No, Professor," Hermione interrupted, "He didn't kill me with a curse. He didn't even have his wand. He just… touched me, and it hurt so much I… decided to die." The words sounded strange to Hermione's ears.  
  
"Who, Miss Granger? Who killed you?"  
  
"Malfoy."  
  
The reaction was remarkable. Dumbledore sucked in a sharp breath and closed his eyes. Harry leapt to his feet, pure rage twisting in his face. He took her hand, very tightly, muttering, "Malfoy… if I ever see him again… Malfoy killed you…" followed by several expletives.  
  
Dumbledore laid his hand gently but firmly on Harry's shoulder. Harry sat down, silent but still fuming. The Headmaster said, "Is there anything else you remember? Anything at all? Even from the last time you appeared dead?"  
  
Hermione thought hard. She remembered what Malfoy had said, about love and… something else, something she couldn't remember - but it was hardly relevant. The last time: she still recalled her night with Harry, and the dream immediately following – her recall was as good as it was seven months ago. And that flash of green light in between… there was something important about that, she could feel it… but she didn't know what.  
  
"Nothing I can remember just now. I'll tell you if I remember anything else." She tried her best to form a smile. It felt closer to a grimace.  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "Of course. Well, we are all delighted that you have recovered. I will personally inform the school as soon as possible. I will leave you now to rest and recover – I'm sure you and Mr Potter have much catching up to do." Dumbledore flashed her a kind smile, and turned to leave.  
  
A thought suddenly occurred to Hermione. "But, Professor, what about Malfoy?"  
  
"Don't worry, he was expelled from Hogwarts as soon as Mr Potter told me of his offer to you."  
  
Hermione convulsively glanced at the curtain through which Malfoy had disappeared just a few minutes ago.  
  
"But expelled students aren't allowed back inside the school!"  
  
"Of course they aren't - "  
  
"But he was here!" Hermione's voice rose in panic. "He was here, talking to me, standing just there, just before you arrived! He was here!"  
  
Dumbledore's back straightened and his face stiffened. He was surprisingly tall when drawn to his full height. Hermione saw the fury growing, radiating from within him, building up like a tidal wave. This was wrath as she had never seen it before.  
  
"What did he want?" Dumbledore's voice was steady, but the heat behind it was unmistakable.  
  
"He said that… that he felt me wake up. And he told me… other things." The details were slipping away, like a dream.  
  
"Tell me everything. Absolutely everything," the Headmaster insisted.  
  
Hermione drew a deep breath, and told Dumbledore everything. She started with when she had woken up after her first "death", and finished with Dumbledore's arrival in the Infirmary. Half an hour later, Hermione realised that she had poured out her soul. Harry looked shocked. Dumbledore looked grave.  
  
"I didn't know it had come to this," he said after a long pause. "I've always known that Draco Malfoy loved you, Harry. Do not ask me to explain. His love for you, Harry, is like that of a brother, and the reasons for this love are between Mr Malfoy and myself. Miss Granger, though. I never knew of his feelings for you. It is, of course, surprising, that someone with his family's values would love you with such passion, but I think I also understand the reasons for that.  
  
"But what most captures my curiosity is what he said about the paternity of your child. I have long doubted that Harry was the father – quite impossible, given the precautions you took. And he himself denied fatherhood, which leaves very few options. Only one, really…"  
  
"Who?" Harry demanded, suddenly on his feet.  
  
"Mr Potter, is there nobody you can think of? Nobody who, perhaps, is seeking immortality? Nobody who would use any opportunity to strike a blow to the very heart of his enemies? Nobody who is just strong enough, but still weak enough, to require an heir?"  
  
"Yes," said Harry, almost silently. Hermione understood too.  
  
"There are many prophecies." Dumbledore's eyes flicked to Harry's scar. "The rise of Voldemort himself was prophesised, the rise of Slytherin's heir. And it was called, in the prophecy, the time of the Lightning Death. And that is why Tom Riddle named himself Voldemort – simply the Latin translation. But now… now everything is becoming clear." Dumbledore became silent. Harry glanced at Hermione. She dared to prompt Dumbledore on.  
  
"Professor?"  
  
Dumbledore seemed to snap awake. "We debated for many years after Voldemort fell. The prophecies told that he would fall at the hands of…" Dumbledore looked thoughtfully at Harry, then continued: "of a young boy who happened to be named Harry Potter. But there was another prophecy, an unfulfilled one. The fact that it was unfulfilled was what led many to believe that Voldemort still clung to existence, and would rise again. He has, and the prophecy seems to have fulfilled itself."  
  
"What prophecy?" Harry asked. Hermione could see that he was becoming desperate.  
  
"Mr Potter, there are many things to tell you, but I can't tell them to you until I have the full story."  
  
Dumbledore turned to Hermione.  
  
"Miss Granger, immediately after we found you in the broomcloset, I made sure you drank a small amount of Excidoserum." He paused as Hermione recalled what Excidoserum was – a potion that enhances the memory, allowing one to remember something that otherwise would have slipped away. Dumbledore continued: "It is more than likely that you have some memory of your first death, although it may be hidden by a Memory Charm of some sort. Hopefully, this memory has been preserved by the Excidoserum."  
  
Hermione interrupted before she could stop herself. "I think I know where the memory is, if you understand me," she said quickly. "Between falling asleep just after Harry and I… yes, and when I woke up – I remember a flash of green light."  
  
Harry made a strange choking sound. Dumbledore simply said, "Yes, I think we've located the occasion of your first death."  
  
Harry seemed to understand this much better than Hermione did; and since he had turned chalky white, Hermione did not think the news was good.  
  
Dumbledore stood. "Rest now, Miss Granger. Tomorrow, we will arrange for you to remember what you have forgotten. I must deal now with the issue of Mr Malfoy's mysterious appearance." He gave her a kind smile. In a soft voice, he said, "It will be alright."  
  
And Hermione found herself believing him. 


End file.
